A comment by Michael Johnson, the best visiting pundit on the BBC, made me aware of one of the most important reasons why I enjoy the spectacle so much.

For the past 20 years, my life is punctuated with key memories, which meld into one another with the passage of time, and don’t usually conjoin with a particular news event in my head. With the Olympics, however, it seems to be different.

What is it about sport that makes me remember watching Ben Johnson’s astonishing 9.79 in the 100m in Seoul 1988 on a 4″ black and white TV in my dorm room, under the duvet so that we wouldn’t wake anyone; Chris Boardman’s triumph on the track in 1992 as my girlfriend and I sat cross-leggged on the grass outside our tent on our first holiday away together; Michael Johnson’s 200m World Record in Atlanta whilst at our family home in France with my Dad and younger Brother; Steve Redgrave’s 5th Gold on the radio whilst in my bedroom in 2000; Kelly Holmes’ first gold in 2004 cooking in the kitchen.

I’ve watched so much of this Games, and seen all of the highlights, but I think I will remember the pool hall in Guildford where I saw Usain Bolt’s embarrassment of his fellow runners in the 100m, and Rebecca Adlington’s unadulterated joy at winning her first whilst I was busy helping change the worktops in our kitchen.

Who knows, in 20 years’ time, something else might flash in there, but that’s the beauty of memories; they are at once fluid and fleeting.